


Sometimes

by panda013 (Amiria_Raven)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Present-tense, from my tumblr sideblog, i had fun?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amiria_Raven/pseuds/panda013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes she doesn’t think. She feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> short fic from my tumblr sideblog, @miraculous-chatinette! It's a few months old but I decided to drop it here anyway. Enjoy!

Sometimes she doesn’t think. She _feels._

It’s easy. Marinette can look out across the entire city from the rooftops and she doesn’t think about the things that might have upset her during the day. She knows how easy it is to give in to the dark side when Hawk Moth’s whispers are all that can be heard. She’s seen enough of her friends and classmates go through the process to know that she doesn’t want to take that chance.

So she transforms and takes to the skies, almost, because all she has to do is feel the wind in her hair, the freedom that being Ladybug brings, and the exhilaration of flying, and then she’s not upset anymore.

Sometimes, being Ladybug is so much easier than being Marinette.

She knows, logically, that both of her seemingly drastically different personalities are just two sides to the same coin. They’re both part of her. She is one: Ladybug _and_ Marinette. But sometimes it’s hard to see that when the world doesn’t know that they’re both the same. So she likes to use Ladybug’s garb when these thoughts bring her down, because it gives her the confidence she struggles to find when she’s just Marinette.

Sometimes, she wishes that she could channel Ladybug when she’d talking to Adrien. 

Marinette stutters around Adrien. It’s something she can’t help doing, even if she doesn’t know why she does it. Maybe it’s because he’s famous, she’s tried to tell herself. It never worked, though, because she knew, more than anyone, that celebrities were real people, too, and that they didn’t always act the same in their daily lives.

But still, years pass by and their time in the same school is dwindling. Marinette can speak to him now, thankfully, but she has yet to confess to him. She can channel enough confidence to hold full conversations with the boy, but she still can’t even ask him if he wants to go to lunch with her.

Sometimes, she wonders if it’s because she’s grown attracted to the kitty cat she spends her nights with, gallivanting around the Parisian rooftops as if they own them. 

Chat Noir, she thinks idly, is one of her best friends. In fact, she’s almost certain that he’s only second to Alya, and primarily because the blogger is Marinette’s oldest friend and her second most constant companion–after the cat himself, of course. But there are some parts of her life that she just can’t trust her redheaded friend with, and that information finds its way to Chat Noir.

He knows that she’s Ladybug. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know she’s Marinette, or that she doesn’t know who he is behind the mask, because they can both relate to that feeling of… _isolation_. They just _click_ , and that’s the way it’s always been and she hopes it will stay that way.

Sometimes she admits she loves him, too.

She’s always been in denial about being _in love_ with _Chat Noir_ , but she does love him. She knows that she couldn’t possibly do half of what she does without him. She knows that he’ll always protect her, even if it would cost him his life, and sometimes the thought breaks her heart.

It’s almost enough to make her give in when he gets hurt in her place. It makes her want to rush to him, make sure he’s okay, and kiss him until he can’t breathe anymore.

But before she’s Ladybug, she’s Marinette, and even if it’s just her silly kitty cat, she knows she would never have the confidence to do that. She’s the kind of girl that hasn’t even confessed to Adrien, a boy she’s liked for four years, so how can she kiss a boy she’s only just admitting she might like a little more than she lets on? Even if she’s more confident when she’s wearing the spots, that’s a step she can’t take. 

But she knows that sometimes she shouldn’t think, or she doesn’t have to act, because she can just feel.

It’s one night, just after graduation, and he’s noticed that she’s a little down. He’s kind of down, too, though, so they huddle together on a rooftop and just talk. They’ve both just graduated, she learns, and neither of them are ready to leave their school lives behind.

“I’m just scared,” Ladybug finally whispers into the night. “Without the mask, I’m a lot different. I can be really shy around some people, but I can also be really energetic. But because I’ve been Ladybug, I’ve had to keep secrets. Now I’m just scared. What if I never have the nerve to tell people how I feel and I end up missing out on the best things that could happen because I’m too afraid of what would happen if they were targeted because of me?”

“I’m scared, too,” the black cat next to her murmurs, tugging her over so that her head is resting against his shoulder. “I’m scared that no one will ever see the real me because my civilian life’s a big lie. I’m scared that if I push too far, I’ll lose the people I care about. I’m worried that my lies will catch up and that, when my friends find out about me being Chat Noir, they’ll be disappointed.”

Marinette, because she is much more Marinette than Ladybug right now, laughs softly, almost bitterly. But she knows that she can’t be too bitter.

“I think you’re fantastic, kitty cat,” she manages, snuggling closer to him. She feels him stiffen in surprise, but then she hears him chuckle and his chest is rumbling.

“Well you, My Lady, are _purrfect_ , so you have nothing to worry about!” he declares with his usual bravado, but she feels her heart clench. 

She doesn’t think. The words just pour out, in a voice much softer than she usually uses with him.

“Have I missed my chance, Chat?” the words ghost past her lips and she leans away, glancing up at him with watery blue eyes. “Have I missed out on _you_?”

His breath catches softly, and his green eyes meet her gaze. He’s trying to find the signs that she’s not being sincere, but they’re not there and she knows they’re not. She’s finally said it, and now she’s slowly turning red as his fingers fall from her shoulder. She’s about to turn away then, but his hands tentatively reach up to cup her face, and she suddenly forgets how to breathe because he’s looking at her the same way he always does when he thinks she’s not looking.

“Of course not,” he breathes, and his breath fans across her face as she belatedly realizes how close they are. 

But she’s determined not to think, or overthink, and gives in to the way it makes her feel. The way his eyes bore into hers, as if nothing else exists in this moment but the two of them, on this rooftop, makes her heart pound a furious rhythm in her chest. His eyes are full of longing, and desire, and all of the things she pretends she doesn’t feel reflecting back at her, and she realizes how much she wants this.

And she shouldn’t, because they’re partners and they should focus on saving Paris…

…but the way their lips mold together is so _perfect_ that it takes her breath away and her eyes slide closed. Her hands move of their own accord, twining around his neck as she pulls herself as close to him as she can get. One of his hands leaves her cheek and she feels it again moments later, warm against the curve of her hip, and Marinette feels as if she’s soaring through the skies.

“I love you,” is a breath against her lips as he pulls away. “I still love you,” he slides his lips over hers in a quick kiss, “and no matter who you are underneath that mask, I’ll _always_ love you.”

His words send her reeling, and she slips her hands into his hair.

“I love you, Chat,” she murmurs against his lips this time, and then she pulls herself closer for good measure as she slants her mouth over his. His other hand falls to the curve of her hip, now, and with a motion that makes her gasp in the midst of her kiss, he pulls her to his lap.

Now she swears she can feel his rising body heat everywhere they’re touching, even through their suits. And she just _drowns._

* * *

Sometimes, she’s surprised that she only waited two more weeks before shyly suggesting a plan for the two of them to meet. As civilians. But when she thinks on it, her cheeks burning, it was worth all of her Marinette shyness to see the way his face lit up when she revealed that she wants to know who he is. He had kissed her more thoroughly than ever, and even if something happens when they meet up as civilians, she’s glad she had that memory to look back on.

She’s wearing the ladybug patterned hat he had brought for her, her hair down as he’d requested when they planned this rendezvous…this _date_. Now all she has to do is wait for a blond man in a black cat-eared hat she’d made herself, and she’d finally know.

It’s only a few more minutes, as she shifts her weight and tucks some of her hair behind her ear, that she hears a soft exhalation from somewhere to the side. She would have ignored it if the voice hadn’t immediately asked, “Marinette?”

The dark-haired young woman turned her head inquiringly to the left and found herself looking into the bright green eyes of the model she had liked all throughout high school. Even though she was waiting for Chat, she couldn’t help the smile that crossed her features at the sight of him.

“Adrien! What are you…” her words trailed off as she finally looked at him, really looked at him, and saw a familiar black cap on his head. “Oh,” she finishes lamely, reaching her hand up as if she’s going to touch his cheek, but she pauses, uncertainly.

Adrien grins, his fingers twining with those of her airborne hand, and she finds herself smiling back at him. The irony is not lost on either of them, because they’ve known each other for four years on both sides of the mask and never noticed. But now she can see the definite feline grin that spreads across the young man’s face, and he can see the way her eyes twinkle like the stars, and he pulls her gently to his side and links their arms.

“Where to, My Lady?” he asks, and he looks down at her in a way that makes her melt.

But she doesn’t think. She just reacts.

Marinette leans her head against his shoulder and answers, “Anywhere,” and it’s all the answer he needs. She feels him place a kiss on her hat and she squeezes his fingers affectionately in return as the two wander down the street aimlessly.

After a while he takes the lead and she lets him, content to be wherever he is.

And she knows that sometimes black cats are lucky, too.


End file.
